


Maybe Someday

by chileancarmenere



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-04
Updated: 2012-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-03 00:59:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chileancarmenere/pseuds/chileancarmenere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard and James imagine a future that won't ever come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe Someday

**Author's Note:**

> I arbitrarily decided that James is from Mexico, because I don't think I ever found out where he does come from. The one-liner at the beginning is from Dev and Enrique Iglesias's Naked.

_tell me baby will you be here when I wake up_

James flops back on the pillows, his body drained. Shepard climbs up and settles her head on his chest, savoring the gentle rise and fall.

“That was one hell of a ride,” he says, and she laughs, tracing a line through the cooling sweat on his skin. He checks the clock on her stereo. “Shit, I have to leave soon.”

“Wouldn’t want Cortez getting suspicious.” She yawns and stretches.

James kisses her nose. “Esteban already knows. We’re just hiding it from the higher-ups now.”

“Maybe someday we won’t have to hide.” She knows it’s an idle thought, born of _what ifs_ and _maybes_ and the bitter knowledge that as long as they serve, they’ll have to hide.

When James laughs and she has his head on her chest, she feels it rather than hearing it. “Sure,” he says, playing along. “Maybe someday.”

“You’re from Mexico, right? We’d go there.” She flips on her back and they both gaze at the darkened ceiling.

“Hell no, Lola. I’m not taking you there. Only Mexico I know isn’t the tourist’s Mexico. Where you from?”

“Vancouver. It’s pretty there. Especially in the summer. Not as warm as Mexico, but there’s beaches and ocean.”

“Any palm trees?”

“I…no,” she says, taken aback. Then she sees his grin. “Stop that!” She punches him in the arm, and he pins her arms to her sides and kisses her long and hard.

“There’s fishing,” she says when they both come up for air. She slips out of his grasp and lands astride him, trailing her fingers down his chest. “And whale-watching.”

“That so?” he says, grabbing her hips and pulling her down onto him. She arches her back and moans. “Stanley Park is nice,” she manages to force out. “And there’s drug gangs so you’ll feel right at home.”

“Shut up, Lola,” he grins, thrusting upwards. She grabs his biceps, digging her fingernails in, and bucks her hips against his.

“We can sit on the deck at a bar and drink while we watch the sunset.” Her eyelashes flutter shut from the pleasure, and she tries to imagine the future she paints for them.

James cups her face in his hands, his touch gentle, which is unusual in their rough, frantic sex. She opens her eyes and looks down into his dark ones. “Sure,” he says. “Sure, we’ll do that.” And in his words, they both hear the ring of a beautiful, empty lie.


End file.
